Cat, or The Crookshank Chronicles
by esoterica
Summary: Hermione gets Crookshanks. Crookshanks doesn't like Ron. Feelings are mutual. Several moments in Crookshank's life with Hermione and his complicated relationship with Ron.


_**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Harry Potter characters. Fear not, Jo __—_ no NC-17 squeak ahead.  


* * *

"_This cat isn't mad. He's the most intelligent of his kind I've ever met._"_ —Sirius Black, on Crookshanks_

* * *

Ron had intentionally been avoiding Hermione in the past few days. Well, not _her_ in particular, but there was something awfully odd about that new _"cat" _of hers, Crook_-what's-his-face. _("It's a cat, Ronald. And his name is Crookshanks." she tried to convince him a few times.)

He remembers when Hermione had purchased that little hairy pig"What was that?" he d asked Harry when he saw the bloody beast for the first time. "It was either a very large cat or quite a small tiger." he replied.) and Hermione's ignorance of the fact that Crookshanks was a bloody beast"You bought that beast?" he d asked her, questioning her sanity for the first time. "He's gorgeous, isn't he?" she gushed.)

Needless to say that _it _had nearly scalped him. Ron really _despises _that cat.

—

Crookshanks really likes the girl who took him home. She scratches him behind the ears, gives him delicious cat food and pets him until he gets sleepy. Crookshanks also likes the boy with the glasses but does not appreciate the fact that he makes up answers for his homework. Crookshanks does _not_ like that other _boy._ The _boy_ with the _rat_.

—

"I don't think your bloody beast, ahem, cat likes me," Ron tells Hermione. sizing Crookshanks up in the same manner a man at sea would look at an approaching shark.

"Now, why would you say that?"

"He, er... is glaring at me."

"It's a _cat_, Ronald. I've said this a thousand times already. It's a cat and cats are supposed to look like they are glaring. Besides, I don't think it's _you_ he dislikes." She eyes Scabbers who is taking a nap on Ron's lap but doesn't say comment further. Ron is suddenly worried.

—

The girl and the _boy_ settle onto the couch. The girl scratches Crookshanks behind the ears. Crookshanks likes that. Then, she pulls a few heavy books out of her bag, a notebook, and a quill. The _boy_ does the same but keeps his eyes fixated on her. And Crookshanks does. _Not. _Like that.

—

"Ow! Your _bloody beast_ scratched me!"

Hermione laughs. "Aw. _Come __on!_ He's just _playing!_"

_Bloody cat._ "I swear Hermione, he is _glaring _at me."

Hermione rolls her eyes, and Ron decides it's time to give up.

—

Crookshanks is happy now. He purrs and settles again on the girl's lap. He will deal with the _boy_ later.

—

Ron sighs. Cat's asleep for now.

"So, um, why a cat?" he asks Hermione.

"Huh? Oh, I don't know. I just didn't want an owl and frogs are kind of disgusting." She casts a glance at Neville who is chasing his inside the Gryffindor common room. "Cats are cute." _Cute. Right. _"Why?"

_Five words. Polyjuice potion fiasco. Hermione cat._

"Um... If you wanted a cute cat why did you buy a hairy _pig?_" Bad move, Ron. "_Ow!_"

Ron managed to dodge the _History of Magic_ book before it caused any permanent damage. Still, that would leave a bruise.

"It's a _cat_, Ronald. A _cat!_ And his name is Crookshanks."

—

Oh, yes. Crookshanks is very happy now.

* * *

Crookshanks is disgruntled. Disgruntled at _the boy_, that is.

They are all happily studying in the common room all, as in he and the girl when a high pitched shriek causes him to jump to the girl's lap. _Merlin's beard, is someone murdering a cat?_

"Won Won!"

The girl scratches Crookshanks behind the ears like she always does, but something is different now.

—

Hermione is fuming. That... that _despicable_ excuse of a human being was snogging, _snogging_, "Won Won(And she cares, because?) being all disgusting in front of... _Harry_. Well, Harry is here. And... and her and Crookshanks are here. And, oh look, Seamus Finnigan is snoring in the corner.

(Hermione doesn't want to admit it, but she _hates_ Lavender Brown.)

—

Oh, so _the boy_ suddenly decides he has adolescent impulses!

—

Lavender plants a kiss on his lips. And another on his cheek. And another on the crook of his neck. (Oh God, is that saliva?) Merlin, is she _hissing_?

—

The girl's not _his_ girl's scream is more annoying that before. (How is this even possible?)

"Granger, do me a favour and control your horrible peace of... _fur_!" The boy's snogging pal hollers.

Oh, _hell_ no! No one talks to _his_ girl like that.

—

Hermione is smiling.

"What was that for?" Ron shouts.

"Come on, Ron. He's just a cat. Lavender, honey..." Lavender rubs the red scar on her arm (_Ouch_, Hermione thinks malevolently.) and glares at her. "Keep it down next time," she adds cheerfully.

—

Needless to say that Crookshanks is _very_ pleased with himself.

* * *

Crookshanks is extremely worried.

The girl left abruptly this morning, and, _two_ hours later, she hasn't come back. This is just _unacceptable_.

At first, Crookshanks found it a coincidence that _the boy_ was missing as well. It actually came as a surprise to him that he wasn't sucking faces with that..._ annoying _idiot that couldn't hold a candle to his owner.

After the initial surprise, Crookshanks is actually rather annoyed. If the girl isn't here, and _the boy_ isn't here either...

Oh no, he _didn't_.

—

It's been three hours, thirty seven minutes and twenty nine seconds.

Crookshanks is literally _fuming._

A dark-skinned boy, known to Crookshanks as Dean Thomas, swiftly walks past him. More than fifteen annoying prepubescent brats along with a couple of hormonal teenagers had walked past him that morning, none of them being either the girl or _the boy_.

In the corner, Lavender Brown is being consoled by Parvati Patil, tears streaming down her _ugly _(as Crookshanks notes) face. He wonders what happened.

—

Crookshanks lays on his back on the carpet of the Gryffindor common room.

It's been _days_ and, still, no sign of anyone attention-worthy.

He is about to doze off when a giggle catches his ear.

_Finally_, he lazily thinks.

—

"Oh, look. The mashed potato is awake!" Ron shouts in pretended excitement.

"Honestly, Ronald. I thought we were through this." Hermione isn't angry, though, and you can tell by her playful tone. She is just happy that Ron is alright. She will probably return to normal Hermione mode soon enough.

Ron flashes a grin at her and practically slumps into the nearest armchair. The mashed potato hisses at him, then climbs at the nearest chair away from him. Lazy cat.

—

The idiotic, whiny, and, apparently, _former_ girlfriend of _the boy_ thankfully moved her whining to another room.

Now, Crookshanks can _finally_ concentrate on plotting his next scheme.

Actually, he can concentrate later. The girl is practically glowing with happiness (Who knows for how long? _The boy _might decide to externalize his hormonal, um, concerns on some other whiny, self-important teenager.) and he is _so _tired. There is plenty time for plotting tomorrow. And the day after that, and the day after that, and the day after that.

* * *

Crookshanks paces back and forth in the dark, empty house. He has been doing so for a long time it stopped snowing weeks ago and there is _still_ no sign of her.

The Weasleys, the red-headed people that inhabit the spacious, groggy house have been absent for days and all Crookshanks can do is pace.

At first, he uses this newfound freedom to look through every _single_ thing the_ boy _owns. Soon enough he finds himself in deep ennui, so all he does is pace.

He misses the girl a lot. Ever since the day she abruptly left, no letters graced by her elegant handwriting have arrived, no news of her whereabouts have been heard. Crookshanks _knows_ she is with _him_ and the boy with the scar, Potter. He can't help but feel jealous. (He secretly thinks that she doesn't love him anymore, that she simply abandoned him, simply not caring anymore.)

He eventually decides he's probably wrong.

Somewhere inside a trunk, he finds dozens of books. A smile creeps to his deformed face; she would never leave without her books. She will return, she _has_ to return.

—

The sun is shining brightly, blinding Crookshanks as he stands behind the window of the spacious, groggy house that looks to the front yard. He has given up pacing it's tiring and, frankly, pointless. He doesn't need any exercise.

Crookshanks swiftly jumps to the comfy sofa, roosting beside a fringed cushion.

That's when he hears it. A sound resembling a car backfiring. Then again. And again. He huffs in exasperation. _Damn those Muggles and their wheeled portkeys. _

"I almost missed that mashed potato." Crookshanks hisses. The _boy_'s voice in his head sounds overly realistic.

"Honestly, Ron. It's a _cat_." Crookshanks purrs in delight; the girl defends him even in his imagination. Her tone is playful, though, as if she isn't even _furious_ that the _boy_ uttered such horrible words about him.

Suddenly, the wooden door opens with a loud creak, carrying blinding rays of light with it that prevent Crookshanks from discerning the large figure at the door step. And, suddenly, the girl appears in front of him, momentarily wrapped under the_ boy_'s arm _whatthehowdidthiseven _— before she runs towards him, crying his name in glee. Behind her, the _boy_ huffs and mutters something under his breath, but Crookshanks couldn't care less, because the girl is back, she's back and she _missed_ him.

Crookshanks has never been so happy in his entire furry life.

* * *

It is a busy day, Crookshanks can tell.

Giggles echo from upstairs, as Ginny Weasley helps the girl with the preparations. He likes her, despite the deep hatred he feels for her brother.

A flushed lady, dressed in a formal emerald dress that compliments her red hair, quickly runs down the stairs, frantically looks for something in the living room, and, when she derives it, runs back upstairs.

All of that greatly confuses Crookshanks. He hadn't seen _the boy_ -or is it _the man_? It's been years since he was considered a boy since that morning, when he left with Mr. Lightning Scar and his _almost _equally annoying older brother, the one with the scary gap on the left side of his red head, dressed in a rather odd costume. Such poor taste, the_ boy_.

An exclamation of admiration coming from upstairs catches Crookshanks' attention once again. A muffled "It looks so beautiful! Like it was specifically made for you!" is audible from where he casually stretches on the Weasleys' sofa.

A few quarters of the hour later, a whacked Crookshanks lays on the maroon carpet, after impatiently striding from the living room to the kitchen and back position of the sun in the sky indicates that it's almost dusk. A creak on the ancient stairs connotes the end of the seemingly endless preparations for "the big day". Yes, it _was_ a "big" day, indeed. Longest four hours of his nine lives.

_Finally_, he half-meows, half-groans, but is then startled at the sight of the girl.

She looks _radiant_.

The annoying redhead, Ginny Weasley, tenderly lifts him -he notes that she holds him in a safe distance from her silk, lavender dress- and scratches him behind the ears. She proceeds to softly place him on the wooden kitchen table.

"Now, stand still, will you?" she half-purrs. (Oh, there's no need to try and seduce me, my heart already belongs to the white-clad beauty behind you.)

It is the longest, most torturous moments of his life, as Ginny Weasley exerts to put the black top hat on his gorgeous head. (If I see a monocle, Mr. Lightning Scar will be your perfect match.)

After the annoying redhead succeeds in her purpose, Crookshanks gracefully jumps off the table and tenderly meows at the girl. Behind him, the annoying redhead murmurs something about a "wedding", "guests", the name of _boy_ and "how they will get rid of the annoying hairball when they have to...".

Crookshanks doesn't quite catch that last one.

Wait. Annoying hairball?

_the end (?)_


End file.
